


everybody has a ghost

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Consensual Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Jupiter's haunted by Seraphi Abrasax.</p><p>Sometimes, it's the living members of House Abrasax who do the haunting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everybody has a ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FleetSparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/gifts).



> _Jupiter Ascending_ characters do not belong to me and I am making no money off this work of fan fiction.
> 
> I hope you like this, FleetSparrow; I did a lil' stalking of your previous gifts and own writing to try to get an idea of what you'd dig. Happy Yuletide!
> 
> * * *

“It’s become a kind of tradition between them, if they feel themselves growing apart,” Kalique says with an indulgent chuckle, as if to say _Boys will be boys_. Her arm is a light weight across Jupiter’s shoulders. “But of course you’d remember that, Mother.”

“I’m not your mother,” Jupiter says automatically, but a wisp of Seraphi’s memory surfaces, and she finds she does indeed remember Balem and Titus getting up to—well, to what they’re currently doing.

There’s a luxurious large round bed in front of her. On it, Titus is fucking Balem. Balem is stripped bare of his idiotic coat and sprawled facedown across it; Titus moves above him, responding to Balem’s every grunt and gasp with what seems to be perfectly choreographed thrusting, if Jupiter’s to be perfectly blunt about it.

“They make a pretty picture, don’t they?” Kalique asks, as if it isn’t one of her brothers trying to bang her other brother into oblivion. She turns a benevolent smile on Jupiter, projecting an aura of this being a special moment for the family to share.

Jupiter rubs her tongue against her palate, working up enough saliva to speak. “That’s, uh. One of your brothers banging your other brother. Into oblivion. Probably.”

Kalique arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “What of it?”

Jupiter has to work up more spit to reply. “I... didn’t... think... of Titus as a top, I guess?”

Kalique’s laugh is full-bodied and throaty. “They take turns, dear. I imagine Balem’s already planning how he will return the favor.” She gives Jupiter a sly smile. “You did bring them up to share, Mother.”

“I’m not.” Jupiter shakes her head. Half to dissuade Kalique (who is implacably hard to dissuade; all of Jupiter’s efforts have come to nothing), the other half to silence Seraphi. Jupiter can’t tell if the occasional vivid thought relating to Abrasax history that comes floating to the surface of her mind is something Seraphi has contributed to her thoughts, or if she’s just imagining things.

She wishes she were just imagining this, just dreaming, able to awaken to the alarm and go to work and scrub toilets all day. And at the same time Seraphi’s memory (is it?) tells her that yes, this is how Balem and Titus work out their differences sometimes, and it’s not a big deal at all.

Kalique’s breathing quickens beside her. Jupiter realizes why: Titus has pulled out of Balem long enough to roll him to his back and is pushing back into him. Both of them gleam with sweat and the slap of flesh on flesh echoes around the small chamber as they strive together. Balem’s hands reach up to claw at Titus’ shoulders, and she can see his hard cock pressed against the hard line of Titus’ belly before Titus presses Balem’s knees to his chest, folding his brother in half until he’s just skin and sweat and flesh that Titus is fucking. He could be anyone; Jupiter is quite sure that Titus knows well that he’s not just anyone.

Jupiter feels Kalique’s arm squeeze her shoulders with what seems to be _possessiveness_. “What do you think people would say if they saw this?”

“I, uh. I don’t know. Is space incest a regular thing?”

Kalique’s laugh shakes them both. “They’re hardly doing anything that will endanger our genetics, my dear. Isn’t _that_ the great taboo of incest, not the degree of relationship?”

Jupiter _really_ doesn’t know what to say to that, so she settles for, “I, uh,” again.

“Kalique,” Titus shouts irritably. “Stop chattering and come hold him still.” His thrusting hips don’t miss a beat.

Kalique gives Jupiter one more shoulder squeeze that’s probably supposed to be reassuring. “Perhaps you could join us, one day,” she says. “I know Balem’s still warming up to you, but it might help, and Titus has always been more biddable with your influence.”

Jupiter doesn’t wait for Seraphi-in-her-head to provide any input before shaking her head hard. Kalique releases her and crosses the floor to her brothers, letting her dress slip off to bare her Regenex-soft skin. When she joins her brothers, Titus turns his head to nuzzle at her breasts.

Maybe it _would_ be a pretty picture, to someone who didn’t know how they were related. Or didn’t care how they were related. Jupiter cares how they’re related. Also how they’re (supposedly, allegedly, ostensibly) related to _her_. Maybe if she didn’t she’d stay, at least for a few minutes, to see just how things physically play out between three people.

As it is she feels absurdly like a mother who’s walked in on her teenage son hunched over a _Playboy_ , and she leaves the room with haste.

“Are they finished already?” Malidictes asks as Jupiter exits the chamber, rising from the loveseat where he’s been sitting. Famulus and Chicanery look up from where they’re playing a convoluted form of chess.

“No. I, uh... no. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

Malidictes’ feathers bristle. “It’s tradition for the bosom companions of the scions of House Abrasax to—”

“I don’t want to know any more about anyone’s bosoms!” Jupiter shouts. “I don’t care how related they are!”

Famulus rises and pats Jupiter’s arm soothingly, but it’s not enough to detract from the burst of laughter from the chamber behind them. “You’ll grow used to it eventually. We did,” she says.

“I don’t _want_ to be used to it. I don’t want anything to do with it. Why couldn’t they just be into having _brunch_ together?”

“They’re _your_ children,” Chicanery says, moving two pawns while Famulus isn’t looking.

Jupiter grits her teeth. “I am not Seraphi Abrasax,” she tells the three of them, not for the first time, not for the last. “They are not my children. I am not their mother. I am Jupiter Jones, I’m from Earth, and that’s _all_.” She steadfastly avoids looking at the light-tattoo on her forearm.

“If you’re sure...” Famulus’ hand drops from Jupiter’s arm and she looks at Malidictes, then at Chicanery, and finally at the chessboard. “He’s been cheating again, hasn’t he?” Her ears twitch indignantly.

“Indeed,” Malidictes says.

“ _Chica_. Honestly, there’s no need to cheat, you beat me half the time anyway.”

They’ve already forgotten about her, lost to their own odd little three-way of duty.

Jupiter continues down the corridor, hoping to find somewhere to sit and clear her head, maybe something to eat, maybe something, _anything_ , to distract her from the images now tattooed indelibly on her brain, from Seraphi’s voice in her mind telling that she should really go back and make sure that her children are getting along.


End file.
